Upshot
by Shelby Chace
Summary: Lone Wanderer, Castiel, encounters raiders, drugs and everyday ordeals in the Wasteland as a near death experience brings him and his father closer, but tragic instances are sure to tare them apart in the near future.


Alpha and Omega

The needle was frigid and bitter beneath his skin, the pricked vein near convulsing as he forced the upper shaft of the syringe down into the second tube with his thumb. As the pop of sealed air discharged, he gritted his teeth with eyes squeezed shut, sensing the cold liquid rush up his arm with a jolt. He removed the now empty indicator and tossed it to the ground with a hint of anger through his tensed movements. Crushing the glass syringe beneath his boot, he breathed a sigh of release, as the pain began to dissipate and the pleasure began to sink in.

Castiel opened his sapphire-blue eyes while involuntarily cracking his knuckles as the red evening sun cast a fiery light upon him. He gazed out past the scorched stones at his feet to the dead black remnants of trees and the ruins of the city beyond that as he swallowed hard. He never imagined it would be this way. The old dirtied photographs of what America's landscape had been were still branded into his tired mind from those twenty years confined within steel walls.

It had been nearly four months since he'd left and one single month since his father's death. Nevertheless, the old bastard stuck with it to the very end of his selfish goal. A goal that seemed impracticable and senseless to undertake, for Castiel at least, his father's associates still thought differently however. It was a large weight lying on his shoulders, to complete his father's work, to live up to that greatness, and come to peace with himself.

The breeze laced with sand ruffled his raven hair as he glanced down to his hands solemnly, the fingerless gloves still intact surprisingly. He was still dealing with the passing of his father, the only parent he had ever known. He was eternally mad at him for taking a single step through that spherical metal door, the screeching of the lock releasing still screaming in his ears. Now, though, he was more depressed than angry, miserable really. Memories never fade and that emptiness could never be filled.

He needed to finish it now. He needed to find it, keep moving.

Castiel rose from the bolder he had been sitting on and apathetically mounted his motorcycle that he had fixed from pre-war scrap. He swung a leg over the engine and jumpstarted the machine with a preset determination, adjusting the rifle strapped to his back. At least he had learned one thing from his old man; science and medical skills were hard traits to come by in a post-apocalyptic economy.

The wastelander killed the motor and dismounted before the large automated door of the Citadel. As he flicked the kickstand with the toe of his boot another wave of pain and nausea swept over him. The comforting sensation of euphoria had diminished by the time he had seen the ugly building approach though his hazy vision. The anesthetic effects of the drug were fading faster by the days, but he refused treatment. Perhaps, it was a way of punishing himself for being unable to prevent his father's death. The drug pushed the pain away, the memories seeming to fade, but always crept back up to kick his ass by the time he needed another dose. He had been so close, so capable; if only he were seconds quicker his father would still be alive.

Castiel pressed a hand against his ribcage and, biting his tongue, strode on past the asshole at the front entrance. The gate guard shot him a sneer of resentment or maybe it was jealousy, Castiel couldn't tell. Besides, he thought the bulky Brotherhood armor looked like a retarded robot anyway.

The Brotherhood of Steel probably was his best bet for the information he required and consequently, he decided to meet up again with Rothchild. The stupid fat bastard was keen on talking his ears off anyhow. Every soul in that Citadel looked at him weird. He didn't exactly know why. Maybe they thought he was freakishly tall, or perhaps his untended wounds were grossing them out. Maybe, Cas thought, they might know he's been really off his ass high lately. Perhaps they could tell he was suffering from withdrawal and he'd start scratching again at this thought. Whatever the reason was, they'd stare as if he was his father's ghost or something.

Castiel shrugged this bizarre thought process off and sauntered on through the lively courtyard, knowing it was not the best time to get all paranoid. Cas glanced at soldiers competing in training exercises and snickered to himself at the poorly drawn wooden manikins of Super Mutants and feral Ghouls. A well-known radio station echoed throughout the open square with its host rambling away like a drugged out lunatic. Three Dog, Cas had met him before. He was a crazy black dude with a loud mouth, but good intentions. After completing some painstaking task for the jerk, Castiel became his new and improved hot topic of _hope_ out in the Wastes. Fighting the 'Good Fight' he said. Three Dog had recently referred to him as an Urban Legend over the radio and now Cas secretly believed he was famous. Our 'Hero of the Wastes' the man over the station was singing now, retelling a small tale that Castiel had overcome in these past months.

Nearly tripping though the building's doors, where it was much cooler, he nodded at a Paladin who cocked an irritated eyebrow. Cas laughed awkwardly then brushed past him and wandered down the identical looking metal corridors with an escalating headache.

A scribe greeted him at the entrance to the science labs as he ran a hand through his hair. He knew he'd see her here; there was no doubt about it. Mellowing his handsome features from any appearance of pain, he swaggered onto the ground floor and captured a glimpse of the tall blonde across the way. He knew she'd be more than pissed if she discerned that he was still on the stuff. However, it wasn't her problem, was it?

"Ah, Castiel," Rothchild welcomed with that pompous scoff of his, "The hero of the wastes returns. And what is it you require, power armor training perhaps?"

Sarah lifted her gaze at the mention of his name, her pretty blue eyes sobering, Doctor Madison Li at her side also losing her drip of joy she carried with her. Castiel cocked a smirk and tore his eyes from her. "I need the location to the G.E.C.K.," he announced simply and forced out a breath.

"The G.E.C.K?" the smug bastard marveled as Sarah continued to glare at him. Castiel figured she would. He did leave without a proper 'good-bye' and an awkward morning-after retreat. "Come, follow me, the location should be relevant on the map…"

Castiel snapped out of his prior reflection and took a step after the scribe. He stumbled and caught himself on the metal railing, blinking away the sudden vertigo. Sarah contorted her pretty face with abhorrence and traced the wastelander with her taut grimace.

Rothchild pointed up to the hologram projected on the wall, as his voice seemed to deteriorate. "Vault 87 indeed contains the device, however, it seems to be impenetrable. You will have difficultly ingoing."

"Why would I have trouble getting in?" he replied and felt as if he were to be ill, the map twisting like a swirling typhoon.

Rothchild furrowed his brow at the nineteen-year-old as Castiel noticed Sarah was arguing quite profusely with Dr. Li. "Are you feeling well?"

Castiel realized he must have appeared completely trashed and scoffed with a grin. "Me? Hell no," he swayed like a drunk demanding he was sober, "What are you talkin' about, chuckles?" he snickered, clearly not grasping the question properly, and glanced back over to the woman whom had forced Madison aside. "I'm great… super awesome…"

Rothchild turned toward the approaching mad woman as Castiel wobbled there for a moment longer, keen on not puking on the floor.

"Rothchild, what the hell is this?" Sarah demanded while stomping over. The chief's daughter was a stunning young woman with long golden hair and large, silky sky-blue eyes. She was extraordinary. When standing beside him the top of her head met his cheek. Castiel loved her long legs, her slim hourglass shape, her soft fair skin, and her tough demeanor. She definitely was no girly-girl.

"What seems to be the problem, Sarah?" the older man inquired while folding his hands.

The woman totally disregarded the scribe and glared at Castiel like he had done something very naughty. "Can't you see he's completely wasted?" she nearly screamed, still never removing her cold sneer from the wastelander.

"No, I'm not…" Cas replied slowly and blinked a few times to see her clearly.

"Miss Lyons…" Rothchild began while clearing his throat, but Sarah cut him off sharply.

"You're not what?" she shouted at the man who stared at her vacantly as if he'd never met her before. "So you think you can just come up in here all fucked up? What's your problem?"

_What's your problem? _… Castiel couldn't count how many times he had heard that derogatory question aimed at him. He struggled to hear her voice as it sort of swirled with all the others about the lab, slowly fading. "I don't have a problem." He mumbled as it began harder and harder to stay on his feet. "What's… what's your problem?"

Sarah realized that something was wrong in that moment and loosened her glare. She watched, as he seemed to be breathing oddly, swaying on his heels, as the color in his face suddenly became pale. "Cas?"

The wastelander shuddered as he muttered something that she struggled to hear. "It's cold in here…"

"No, it's not… Cas, maybe you should sit down." Sarah said with her hand out, voice light.

"Nah, I'm good… okay I'm okay." He said to himself mostly and the room became crowded with black pulsating splotches. "I'm okay…" he said with a drunken smirk as both Sarah and Rothchild stared at him with large eyes. She was waiting for him to either to fall forward or back, deciding how to prevent a harsh bruising. However, she partially thought he deserved it for treating his body like shit.

Suddenly the next thing he remembered was the jolt of his knees hitting the floor and nothing more. Later he recalled that this was the third time he had fainted in the past five days. That was embarrassing. He collapsed with eyes rolling back in his head as his legs gave out beneath him, his head lolling back. He had lost consciousness before he even hit the floor with an exhausted escaping breath. Castiel landed on his front with a loud whack, cheek pressed to the cool metal floor.

"Shit…" Sarah halted in her stride of an attempt to catch him, but her hands only managed to pull at the leather of his coat. Many eyes blankly glanced down at the now unconscious man sprawled out on the floor, not exactly hiding their disinterest. Sarah cleared her throat and cocked an eyebrow at Rothchild as Doctor Li's mouth fell open like a drawbridge.

"Great…" Sarah sighed, but knew that was coming. "Get this moron off the floor and into the damn medical wing."

"I suppose that he wasn't feeling very well then?" Rothchild muttered and waddled off as Sarah rolled her eyes. "I did ask yet he insisted he was fine…"

"What ya do to him?" said some nutcase scientist whom had followed Doctor Li when escaping from the Jefferson Memorial. His name was Dennis, Dave, Daniel or something; she really didn't care as she glanced at his grimy nametag sewn into his work jumpsuit. Daniel Agincourt it read in thick blue letters.

"It's more like what I'm _going_ _to do_ to him." Sarah growled under her breath as two members of the Brotherhood peeled Castiel off the floor. He merely hung limp in their grasp, head bobbing against his chest as the two men positioned him upon the medical cart like a puppet. He was tall that his feet hung off the end somewhat.

The strange man beside her snorted while smacking his lips together, eating something with peanut butter. "Guy might've saved our asses from that shit with the Enclave back at the Memorial, but I still think he's a…"

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Sarah spat, cutting him off, and crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

"Nah, not in this shit-hole I don't." he replied and raised an eyebrow at the Chief's daughter, believing his joke was particularly hysterical, but she sure as hell didn't laugh. Sarah took leave behind the two men carting Castiel away with another eye roll. After entering the medical wing she had to wait another ten to fifteen minutes for his blood work to come back. The damn physician was a moron not to recognize what was apparently wrong with him, but as Sarah got a hold of the chart she screamed aloud with annoyance.

"Idiot!" she shouted and threw the data down upon the counter with a smack. She marched back into the trauma room and through the glass doors as another doctor tentatively strode past her and out of the small room.

The predominantly frigid room held two adjustable beds with white sheets, shelves of medical supplies, and an ominous blue light from the x-ray sheet overhang screen. Castiel was conscious now and, fumbling with his IV, he wore a focused scowl and a white hospital gown.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sarah demanded and purposely hardened her once light voice. The only sound was the constant soft beeping of the heart monitor for a moment as he hardened his jaw, the flesh near the IV needle beginning to bleed slightly.

His sapphire-blue eyes flickered up at her quickly then back to the needle taped to the back of his hand. "Trying to get this piece of shit out…"

"That's not what I meant." She growled and crisscrossed her arms again, the blue fabric of her jumpsuit tightening. He ignored her until she leaned over and smacked his arm. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Is this what you've been trying to accomplish?"

He now blankly stared up at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, sweetheart." His voice bore a hint of insult with such a harsh underlying tone that she never heard him use before.

"Cut the shit, Cas." She retorted with discriminating light sky-blue eyes, "I saw the charts…"

This time he cut her off. "Yeah, what about em', so what if I'm using a drug?"

"It's not just about the heroin." She swallowed as he made a clicking sound through his teeth. "You're just using it to numb the pain instead of _treating_ the source!"

Castiel merely turned away from her with pursed lips lining a phony confident smirk. "I don't need this…" he searched the room for something with his eyes, "Where the hell are my clothes?" he mumbled to himself.

"Why are you doing this? Your radiation levels are through the roof, did you know that?" she shouted still standing there like a stonewall, "Are you just planning to slowly kill yourself?"

"You know what?" he barked, turning back to her with a searing glower as Sarah jumped, "Why the hell would you care? Or better yet, why the hell would anyone fucking care about me or about anyone else besides themselves out here?" His deep voice sounded lethal, she had never heard him shout in such a way before, it was menacing.

Sarah nearly took two steps back; however, her bewildered expression displayed this sensation for her. "I care, Cas." She responded almost gently, "I care and we … the Brotherhood and the people out there in the wastes need you, they need you… I need you."

"Well, isn't that just fantastic." He muttered and suddenly felt nauseous and lightheaded again. "Saving assholes from shit isn't my job…"

"I know how you must feel, but… you can't give up now, not when we're so close." She explained with a pressure forming in her throat. She knew she cared greatly about him and ever since she met him out in the DC ruins for the first time, she instantly found a longing to be near him. Besides, he did save her life more times than she would ever admit to herself.

"No, you don't know how I feel!" he snapped back at her as she swallowed hard yet allowed him to rant. "Here let me give you a little update, babe! I can't fuckin' sleep, my head is pounding, that wasn't the first time I fainted, my body hurts all over, I can't eat anything or I throw it up, my mouth is always dry, my ass hurts because I keep shitting my brains out…"

"Cas…" Sarah ran her tongue over her teeth and tried to stop him, but failed.

"Let me finish. I can't stop using the stuff because I feel like I'm dying, my Dad's dead, some asshole shot my dog up, Amata's a cunt, I think I'm an alcoholic and a junkie at the same time, if that's possible, and sometimes I get these erections that won't go away no matter what I do and…"

"Cas! Stop it!" Sarah finally cut him off and he glanced down to his hands, which were tightly bound to the white sheet.

"Sorry about the boner thing… but yeah, fuck, my life sucks… fuckin' heroin…" he mumbled and bit on the inside of his cheek with a laugh. "Should've done crack instead… at least I'd be happy."

Sarah took in a breath after a silence between them, but she did listen to his little detailed update. "You never said good-bye, you know."

"Great…" Cas snickered with an irritated sigh as she planned out her wording. Castiel swallowed and gritted his teeth with the sudden pain. "Sarah…"

"I didn't know if you'd be coming back or… because you never really do and… you're always jumping around…" he cut her off with a moan and leaned over to his right with eyes squeezed shut. "Cas?" she furrowed her brow and took a step closer to the bedside.

"Go get the doc…" he groaned and abruptly lurched over and vomited blood onto the floor.

Sarah flinched with a held breath, standing there momentarily, shocked, as he moaned with hysteric gasps for breath, his groans sounding strangled. "Doctor!" she nearly screamed and darted back through the glass doors.

"Oh, that's not supposed to happen…Fuck!" he mumbled and spit out the last of it, but jolted back with the sudden tarring pain through his abdomen rising up into his chest like a serrated knife. Perhaps, this time he truly was in over his head.

Sarah peered through the pair of glass windows that shown into the trauma room, the edges of the glass caked with grimy stains of God knows what. It was a hazy scene to watch, the doctor pushing him back down into the thin cushion of the medical bed, as Castiel fought against his will, the withdrawal and acute radiation poisoning causing him to erratically convulse.

She knew the drug he took was strong, but she hadn't wanted to see this. His entire body was stressed as the seizure shook him like a rag-doll, causing his eyes to roll up with pained shouts muffled, choking. It almost looked like he was being electrocuted. Sarah couldn't stare anymore and turned away just as the doctor quickly inserted an unknown liquid into the rubber tube from the IV stand.

Sarah knew he had done this to himself, a self-destructive mannerism that his father's death had jump-started. He'd play it off like nothing was wrong, ironically saving lives selflessly, but on the inside the one who needed saving most was he. By shooting-up, drinking, and fooling around with other women that meant little to him, he persistently tortured himself as a form of escape.

Sarah knew he did, and that fact now made perfect sense to her. She remembered when he came back broken a month earlier. That cocky side grin of his had faded and his once bright blue eyes had dulled as he admitted he was practically screaming inside, feeling everything he touched shattered. He admitted responsibility for his father's passing, believing that he could have saved him if were seconds quicker.

Sarah told him it wasn't his fault, but he never seemed to agree. She knew he wouldn't and left it at that, allowing him to stay the night. That night had been the first time she'd ever seen him cry. Truly snap. He had opened up to her and, for once, stayed the night _without_ sex. He had choked out something about going back to the vault and the woman he once loved turned him away after he had aided them with some sort of domestic ordeal. Sarah could tell that had beaten him up pretty bad. In some way, however, it was as if he was a child and all he wanted was to be comforted.

However, he simply left in the morning as if it never occurred. By the look on his face, Sarah knew he wasn't healed, some wounds can never be; the use of the drug among other things displayed that as well. If he broke could he be fixed like some pre-war toy?

"He needs a allogeneic transfusion." The Brotherhood's medic said and caused her to jump, startled.

"What?" she asked, prior thoughts now fading.

"I am preparing the transfusion now. Should help his body regenerate while bringing the fever down as well."

She nodded incoherently. "Alright." The man turned and began to depart back into the medical room, "Is he in pain?"

The middle-aged man grinned lightly through a scruffy brown beard. "I'm sure he is."

That was not the answer she longed to hear. "What about the radiation poisoning?" she inched while noticing she had been biting at her fingernails.

"That's what the transfusion is for, love, but I cannot promise anything." He clarified then glanced down to his white rubber gloves. "You should know that his body is shutting down, and I'm not sure if he'll take to the transfusion, but it's worth a shot. I've got some pre-war stuff that should flush the drug right out of his system, however, if he's already come close to an overdose, and it appears he has, it's not going to work as well as predicted."

Sarah frowned at the white-coated man as he departed in a blur without further explanation. Shutting down? She wondered and spun about to glance back through the glass. The wastelander was now unconscious, with very pale skin and dark circles beginning to form around his eye sockets, he appeared sickly. He looked dead even, the rhythm of the heart monitor had dropped down to below normal.

However, she knew he'd be fine, he always was. No matter how close he came to death, he somehow found a way to cheat the reaper… so it seemed. She really didn't feel up to speaking with him again since his hasty departure. Nonetheless, she didn't have a choice this time; he needed someone to at least say everything was going to be all right.

She didn't regret the sex, it was wonderful, but she regretted the portion of all that shit that mattered most, now she cared about him. Before he was just another scavenger out in the ruins, handsome, yes, but she wouldn't be particularly upset if he came back with a leg blown off or something.

Two Months Earlier …

The woman grinned and glanced away from him, blushing. "But, I mean it, it means a lot to me." Lucy brought her gaze back up to the wanderer's steel stare as that side smirk held taut on his gorgeous face. "If you're ever in Megaton feel free to look me up any time."

"You got it, sweetheart." Cas winked and kissed her hand as she giggled like a little girl. As her touch left his forearm he spun on his heels and swaggered off, planning the next time he'd 'stop on by', which would be sooner than later.

Castiel whistled sternly and the hound came trotting after him happily. He ran a hand through his blasted back, dark hair and made a clicking sound through his teeth. "We'll have to come back here very soon, won't we, Dogmeat." He thought aloud with a raised eyebrow. He could already taste her, secretly undressing her with his mind.

However, he already had something of importance planned and his father over at Rivet City was awaiting his arrival. He had blown his dad off after the little incident at vault 112, needing some space. He needed to think, to get over all the shit his father created, leaving vault 101 being the start of it all.

Dogmeat licked his hand, which broke him from his prior thoughts. The red sun had begun to set over the barren horizon as his radio began to produce white noise. The dog barked as Cas halted in his strides, rubble flicking up with the sudden movement.

"What the hell…" he creased his brow and fumbled with the device strapped to his left wrist. The radio hadn't been working before, but suddenly, a voice could be heard through the static. It was a man's voice, Cas could make out as he took a few steps westward. As the signal became clearer he realized it was a call for help.

"Please, if anyone can hear this, please help us." The person seemed to be whispering as Cas lifted the device to his ear and bit his lip. "My wife and daughter have been captured by Raiders and we're being held in some fort or something. Please, we need help, anyone…"

The voice faded as Castiel picked up the pace in that direction. He knew of a Raider hold out around the area and sure as hell stayed away unless he wanted a proper disembowelment. However, he'd now have to storm right in, but his arrogance never supplied cowardice.

"We're goin' for a little detour, Dogmeat." He snickered and patted the dog's head with a gloved hand. "I hope you got some spare grenades."

The wanderer pressed his back up against a brick wall of a broken down building and reloaded his rifle quickly after flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. In the outskirts of the DC ruins Raider factions had conquered a few small towns like it was their soul purpose. Castiel thought it was idiotic for an inadequate family to venture so close to DC. He could hear rowdy voices from the other side of the wall, old pre-war cars scattered about as if acting as a barrier.

Cas took in a breath for confidence and slowly emerged from his hiding spot in a squatted position, Dogmeat following close behind. He then pressed up against a car, directly behind the Raiders and their little bonfire. Listening to a female whimper, he flicked the safety off on the weapon as the dog began to growl.

"_Shhh_, Dogmeat." He attempted to muzzle the hound, gently holding his hand over the dog's snout.

"What was that?" one man asked another as footsteps inched closer to Castiel's position. "Sounded like a damn dog."

"I'll go check it out, pussy." The other insulted and strode closer as Castiel's heart jumped with adrenaline.

As soon as the bastard rounded the corner Cas stood and held the tip of the rifle against the man's forehead. He froze with wide eyes as Dogmeat barked and lunged forward, into the fort.

"Back up!" Cas ordered, deep voice lethal, his cheek pressed to the side of the weapon near his hand. He stood rigid and unwavering, muscles taut and eyes locked. "I said, back the fuck up!"

The raider did as commanded and backed up into the clearing. "Fuck!" the other screamed as the dog leapt on him and began to gnaw at his face, pained wails now erupting.

Castiel could now see a woman seated on the ground with bound hands, tearstains down her cheeks. "Untie her." He ordered further with the weapon aimed straight between the asshole's eyes. "Now!"

The raider shakily wandered over to the woman as Cas quickly glanced about for the two other members of the family. The man finished untying the brunette and Castiel motioned for her to come to him.

"Come here." He beckoned as she nearly ran to him with a troubled moan. He had her stand behind him, guarding her and still aimed at the man. "Where are the others?"

The raider suddenly grinned with black eyes and creased his brow. "Where?" Cas shouted as a gunshot was fired.

Castiel yelped as a sharp quick pain sliced at his bicep. Instinctively turning, he fired at the raider standing on top of a pile of cars. The woman screamed and embedded her fists into the fabric of his jacket at his back. She clung to him like a leech. There were more arriving out from the darkness as Dogmeat snarled and darted toward them.

"You've got bad timing, hero!" The man chuckled and raised a pistol.

"Look out!" the woman shouted as Cas spun on his heels and shot the man down with one bullet, splattered blood fizzing on the wall behind him.

"I know where they are, follow me!" she announced and darted deeper into the car fort.

Castiel went after her, but hesitated as a dog whimper found his ears. He growled and forced himself to turn and follow. The wife, he presumed, lead him to desolated portion of the fort as the raiders pursued after them, laughing. There sat a bound man about in his thirties, holding a smaller wide-eyed child. Cas frowned at the man's shoulder wound, but knew it wasn't very serious. The woman untied her husband and took the little girl in her arms.

"I can't thank you enough, stranger." The husband announced as he stood with a hand pressed against his right shoulder.

"Don't thank me just yet." Castiel replied, not looking at the man, but glaring back the way they had come. He whistled out into the darkness, but was not answered by a dog's faithful bark. "Let's go."

Leading the way, the wastelander jogged toward the fort exit, but was greeted with a shower of gunfire. "Get back!" he ordered to the family behind him as they took cover.

Castiel peeked out from the corner as three raiders came inching closer, weapons raised. He turned back to the husband with a hardened face. "You know how to use a gun?"

"Yes, but there has never been a need." He replied, uneasily glancing over Castiel's shoulder as the wife covered her daughter's ears.

"Here," he tossed the rifle to the man then produced his double-barreled shotgun and pumped the mechanism. "You're gonna need it."

The man nodded as the raiders came closer. "C'mon, ya scared little bitches!"

"I'm going out first then, on my mark, blow their brains out." Cas explained as the woman grabbed his arm.

"Where are we going to go?" she demanded as the man met his gaze.

Cas cleared his throat. "The nearest safe location is Rivet City in DC, that's where we're headed."

She watched his mouth move and seemed to agree as Castiel then clenched his jaw and darted from the cover. He shot a raider as soon as he was within sight, the head rolling down the avenue. Two came at him with pistols as he killed another effortlessly, the cry of pain cut short.

"You wanna be my boyfriend?" a filthy female raider cackled, taunting him.

He struggled to reload the weapon, the shells jamming, as the male laughed hysterically and decided to take this advantage to merely wound the wastelander for kicks. With a handgun he shot Castiel in the thigh as he grunted in pain and fell backward.

The wife gasped and squeezed her husband's arm as he began to inch out.

"You wanna suck my dick, baby?" the male raider tantalized and took hold of Castiel's face, the pistol aimed at his neck. "I bet you'd give good head…"

The male raider froze as the tip of the weapon met his crotch. Castiel raised an eyebrow and pumped the weapon with a click. "Maybe, but today you're my little bitch." He growled and pulled the trigger. The man fell back with screech of pain, the female whipping back around. "Now!"

The husband jumped up on command and killed the female with jolt from the weapon. The four others then knew they were losing ground. The husband darted over to his rescuer as shots rang out like rain. Castiel was attempting to prop himself up against the wall groaning, but began to slide back down. The man caught him by the elbow, but Cas shrugged him off.

"I'm fine." He demanded and managed to stand, blood oozing down his leg. "Let's get your family the hell out of here."

The husband nodded and reloaded his rifle. Two of the four had melee weapons and advanced on the two men first. One knocked the rifle out of the man's hands as Castiel blew the raider's brains out. As the man reclaimed his gun, Cas fought a skirmish with the other, throwing punches accompanied with angered shouts.

The wastelander had the raider on his knees. "Get the other two." He ordered to his companion as the man nodded again.

"Wait, please…" the bastard pleaded, left eye so damaged it nearly hung loose of the socket.

Cas uttered a laugh. "Fuckin' killed my dog…" he took hold of the man's head and brought his knee up and connected it to the man's face so hard, the raider was tossed backward. The wanderer reloaded and emptied the barrel into the man's now disfigured face for the hell of it.

"C'mon, Karen!" her husband called as Cas lead them out from the fort. He stepped over his faithful companion's bloodied body with a tightening in his chest.

Limping, he forced himself forward, knowing there was bound to be more of those assholes just waiting for them to reach the exit. "Go!" he pressed them forward then, walking backward, found a raider positioned on top of the barricade.

Castiel immediately recognized the grenade in the bastard's hand, his arm beginning to swing. "Go, go, go!" he shouted, shoving the man forward. The family ran out of the fort, Castiel yards behind them. He struggled to keep up, but grinned and aimed his last cartridge up at the greasy looking man who tore the clip out with his teeth.

Before the raider released the grenade Castiel fired, striking him down as the body fell limply off the tower of vehicles. Cas faintly heard the husband cry to him as something black clanked against the car next to him. It seemed to occur in slow motion. He glanced down to the little object as his steel blue eyes widened. There was a spark, the sudden white light glinting, then nothing but blackness, the thunderous blast echoing, pounding.

Pressure was all he felt, an extreme force that he had never experienced before in his life. He couldn't remember being thrown through the air or the harsh landing afterward, but the horrible sharp sound would be forever branded into his mind.

At first all Castiel could see was the beautiful velvet night sky, he perfectly remembered the sheer magnificence of it, the stars. He couldn't hear anything, but this deafening ringing in his ears, colliding with his own unsteady breathing. Blinking, he wondered why he could see as clear as day but could not hear a single noise. He realized he felt numb, picking his head up. He had landed on his back. Cas squinted in the darkness to the searing light not very far from where he was laying. The car he had been standing beside was a blazing shell, flames licking up to the black smoke that hovered above.

Castiel was confused at first, the bits of shrapnel scattered about like glass. Something finally clicked in his brain, his face falling, and he looked down at himself. The fabric at his chest and abdomen was frayed and saturated with deep red blood, the scarlet liquid pooling beneath him. His right side seemed worse than the left, his wounded thigh blackened with blood, his right boot mangled. However, the portion of the damage that caused his stomach to flip was the bits of jagged shrapnel cut into his body. The metal stuck out from his abdomen like he had been impaled.

Cas incoherently took a piece of black shrapnel in the palm of his bloodied hand and slowly yanked; it made a horrid gurgling sound. The large piece of serrated metal fell from his grip and clinked against the pavement as his arm fell back upon his stomach. He didn't realize how weakened he was, how heavy his body felt. Blood oozed from the now open wound and streamed over his stomach and down his sides. Before actuality hit him, Cas tore the other large section of shrapnel from his abdomen and attempted to stop the excessive bleeding with his trembling hands.

Sound suddenly seemed to return to his ears in a whooshing sensation as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Castiel moaned and tried to sit up, but failed as distress spilt into his core. He threw his head back and let an ear wrenching cry escape, not even realizing that he had. A cry that he never before heard himself produce, it was bloodcurdling, chilling. He arched his back upon the pavement as a wave of the most horrific pain he had ever suffered raged through his entire body. He shifted on the aged concrete and screamed, blood now forcing its way up his windpipe.

"Don't move." He heard a distant muffled voice say, hands pressing down on his shoulders. It was a man's voice, the husband, his tone trembling with concern. He had seen the entire dreadful incident from afar and attempted to control his panic for his rescuer's sake.

"Stay awake, do you hear me? You have to stay awake!" the man ordered with false hope and glanced up to his wife. "Karen, come here!"

Castiel's vision began to fade, sound also diminishing again, but quicker as he shivered. He felt drained, his eyelids heavy and mind slowly shutting down. This is it, he thought, I'm dieing here, today, on this cold-ass concrete. Stupid fuckin' stars…

"Hey! Stay awake! … goddamnit…" The husband grumbled and pressed down hard on the wastelander's chest, but nothing seemed to be helping. His rescuer was young, he now noticed, an attractive man in perhaps his early twenties.

Castiel tried to speak, but the words never left his lips. I'm going into shock; he attempted to say, yet only a moan escaped him. This sucks…

The wastelander struggled and trembled beneath him as the husband aimed to at least cease the hemorrhaging to the best of his abilities. His wife stood there like stone with wide eyes. Guilt was beyond him. The older man's mind was racing as the younger man below him coughed up blood in agony, his blue eyes fluttering back.

"Tell me your name, I never heard you say it… say something, anything…stay awake… shit… stay…awake…"

Castiel finally couldn't hold on any longer and succumbed to his exhaustion, losing consciousness. He remembered how good it felt to drift into sleep, to give up. The next time he struggled to open his eyes, neon blue rectangular lights were rushing over him like split white lines on an interstate. The ceiling was metallic, he made out as the lights ceased moving and an archway gave way to a room down the dim corridor. He was lying face up on a slab of some sort; he could feel the wheels roll beneath his weight. He attempted to make out the faces that loomed over him; quickly leaving and coming back in blurred white waves. His vision was distorted like a veil over his eyes. He suddenly didn't care about the iciness of the room or the things touching him as he wailed in agony, the pain now returning. It was difficult to breathe even, choking and coughing up blood, which was more terrifying than the pain.

James lifted his gaze from the chart in his hands, grey eyes scanning the lab for Madison. His ears perked to the disorderly clatter down the hall a ways. He stood from the steel chair and ran a hand through his grayed hair. He had aged, it was evident, his once dark brown hair and beard streaked with grey, his energetic mannerisms not they way they used to be. His adult son laying him off like an acquaintance. He had grown into a stubborn older man, but with that determination still raging. He noticed his son shared the same qualities. He was strong-minded, bold, noble, and at bit wild, just like his old man.

James placed the chart down upon the counter and exited the science labs, catching Doctor Li before crossing the doorframe. "Madison, what's going on?" he asked, wondering why she appeared so perturbed, "Has someone been injured?"

The older woman looked up at him, one of her oldest friends, and realized the words were stuck in her throat. "Yes," she mumbled and grabbed something off the counter with a trembling hand, releasing her brown eyes from his, "There has been an accident…"

"And this concerns you?" he furrowed his brow, age becoming evident, "Madison, we have a deadline …"

She cut him off and met his stare, recognizing how much his son looked like him, almost exactly like him, striking features with penetrating eyes that cut cleanly into the soul. "James, it's your son."

His face completely fell, lips separating, wondering if he had heard her correctly. "Castiel?"

Madison nodded solemnly. "Something about Raiders and an explosion." She bit her lip and creased her brow, "A family brought him in. They had minor injuries, but said he saved them… that they would have been dead or worse if he hadn't come."

James gritted his teeth together as a lump formed in his throat. "Where is he?"

Doctor Li shook her head. "James, you can't see him now, he…"

He took hold of her shoulders with pressure. "Madison, where is my son?"

When she did not give a response his stomach twisted. He released her and quickly strode down the hall. "James!" she called and darted after him.

The screaming was what he heard first as the medical room inched nearer. A deep guttural cry that was loud and wavering with distress. It was a male, the screams sort of morphing into more desperate screeches now, higher pitched and horrifying. James felt the pit in his stomach deepen, his head swim, he knew exactly who was crying out, but he did not want to admit it to himself. He heard doctors' uneasy voices call out for certain things, carts and items being handled. He heard them summing up the damage as he now was practically running down the hall.

"Male, age 19 … bullet wound…internal bleeding," he could hear a medic say between the chaos, "Contusions… trauma…" the voices were choppy and robotic.

No, goddamn … goddamn shit, James thought quickly, no, no, no… someone else, not my son, not my son, not Cas… Couldn't be him, couldn't …

"Wait, James!" Madison called as he rounded the corner and came to a dead stop in the doorway of the medical room.

There was his only son, lying out upon a metal slab, the green fabric of the feeble cushion now dyed red. Blood was pooling beneath him, dripping from the table in streams and onto the floor. He had to be held down due to his thrashing, his abysmal cries like daggers to his father's heart. Seeing him like that was like a slap in the face for leaving the vault.

James took a few more steps into the room so he could see all that was occurring very clearly. Cas was arching his back with eyes squeezed shut, lips pulled back over his bloodstained teeth. He had tears running down his face and back into his hair. James creased his brow rigidly and wrinkled his nose, chest becoming tight. He watched the main medic of Rivet City, Dianne, demand for items, her once white gloves and gown stained dark red.

She was a middle-aged woman who had trained by her father's hand. James knew he could trust her, however, being a doctor himself, he could not possibly operate on his own son. Castiel was attached to a heart monitor and an IV stand, the tubes flinging about. His pulse was very rapid, his breathing erratic and quick in short gasps. He was in a panic.

"What happened?" James found himself asking, voice raised over his son's agonizing screams. Such a mundane question.

"Raiders." Dianne replied promptly, her gaze switching between the older man across the way and her trembling patient below her. "He's lost much too much blood and I'm concerned with these lacerations."

James could see why, Castiel's blood now running thin. He was about to reply, but his son began to mumble very quickly as if speaking in tongues. He was shifting constantly upon the table, kicking his legs and tossing his head back and forth, fighting.

"Dad… Dad, I can't find you…" he was murmuring in a sort of breathy whisper, which caused James' heart to drop farther. He was calling for him, pleading as tears traced streams down his face. James hated to see that look on his son's face; he was frightened, pained, and confused. "Dad…."

James moved as close to the table as he could and took his son's hand in his. He didn't react to him at first, but then James felt him squeeze his hand. Suddenly his gaze flickered up to his and James had lost the ability to breathe. Cas moaned, unable to speak or breathe.

Dianne attempted to shush him with a gentle soft tone, leaning in close so he could hear her voice. "Relax, Castiel," she was hushing him sweetly, yet James could see the alarm in her movements; it was bad, "I've given you pain medication… it's alright. Why don't you tell me about your motorcycle? I know you fixed one up."

He was quiet for a moment, yet James could see that he wasn't listening to her. Cas was staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression now, his blue eyes suddenly becoming opaque, lost in his void. What was he seeing? James wondered, his hand in his still. James had seen that look many times before. Catherine had that look after she had shot down that super mutant, right before she died and patients of his harbored that exact look as they lay dying, small children had that look after something very traumatic occurred, adults had that look after a fatal blow of loss. His son's sudden silence frightened him.

Dianne pressed her hands down on him, making a brief assumption if any vital organs had been damaged. This pressure obviously disturbed him and Cas arched his back again, seemingly stuck in a silent cry. At first he seemed to be choking, then he began to cough violently as bright red blood spilt from his mouth, staining his lips red.

"I know that hurts, sweetheart, I'm sorry." She was attempting to comfort her patient whom merely whimpered in response as she maneuvered certain pieces of his clothing, her hands moving very fast. As if for his father's sake, the shrapnel from his chest had been the first ordeal Dianne dealt with. It had been quickly removed.

Dianne promptly took a pair of shears an assistant handed her, directing them carefully through the fabric. Instead of struggling with his leather jacket, it had been taken off before she begun any form of medical treatment. Dianne cut the frayed black t-shirt from his neck to his pelvis, stopping at his metal belt with a frown. She quickly handed the scissors over to an assistant and ordered for him to cut through the seams of the pants as another medic promptly unbuckled the belt and slid it off underneath him. Dianne bit her lip and ran her hands over his torso before glancing up to the heart monitor.

James stood there like stone, bewildered. He ignored Madison's beckoning touch, flinching away. She sighed, knowing he would not leave the room. As Castiel's clothing was pulled away James nearly took two steps back. The damage to his torso was critical, his right leg sliced open nearly to the muscle.

Dianne creased her brow at the monitor then pressed her fingertips against Castiel's neck and noticed how he seemed to have unwound much too quickly. "Castiel?" she beckoned with a kind voice, touching the side of his face, "Can you hear my voice?"

The wastelander nodded weakly then opened his eyes and stared right up at her calmly, but really appeared to gaze straight through her. The doctor nearly gasped as the sapphire orbs flickered up to her, the blue of his irises striking suddenly against his pale skin. She realized his breathing was off, his coloring ashen with blued lips. "I'm going to put you under now." She explained very clearly, holding an oxygen mask in her left hand, "For surgery. Do you understand?"

An assistant had already administered a painkiller into the IV as Dianne asked, but it would not have caused this sudden reaction. He merely blinked slowly with a relaxed expression now. "He's in hypovolaemic shock." She said sternly to the assistant, noticing how large his pupils were, with cold skin and a rapid, faint pulse.

Dianne glanced over to James and just as their eyes met, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor went hysterical. She jumped to the sound.

"He's going into cardiac arrest!" Dianne announced and ordered for more instruments. "Stabilize it."

"Cas!" James finally broke from his haze, chest tightening.

Castiel's eyes fluttered back, his body tensing as Dianne then ordered for an adrenaline shot. James stood there helplessly, shaking, as Castiel sort of convulsed on the table. James knew it was going to happen soon as his ears prematurely heard that note he so dreaded. It wasn't long until his son's body suddenly went limp. His head lolled to the side, his right arm slipping off the table and out from James' grasp as the monitor went flat line, blood dripping from his fingertips.

"No!" James screamed and jolted forward, but an assistant caught him. "Castiel!"

"You must leave now, sir." The assistant replied, forcing him back through the doorway.

The way Castiel's head fell, he was facing his father, eyes half closed with lips slightly parted, dead. "Castiel!" James cried and struggled against the younger man. "No, he's my son!"

"Sir, you have to leave now!"

"He's my son!" James shouted and shoved the assistant off. Another doctor moved his son's face away from view and placed a pump action oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Dianne placed her hands over each other and pressed down on the wastelander's chest rhythmically, counting.

She continued to perform CPR, glancing up at the monitor insistently. "C'mon, Cas." She nearly begged and pressed harder. "C'mon." It wasn't working. He simply lay there, unresponsive, which caused a dreadful icy awareness to slip down James' spine. The room suddenly became very cold. He couldn't be dead. He was alive moments ago, now the dull tone of the heart monitor cut the fearful silence.  
>"C'mon, Castiel… come back…" James watched Dianne with a heavy heart, "Damnit… ready the defibrillator."<p>

Madison covered her mouth with a hand and departed from the room hastily with tears in her eyes. It was happening all over again. James turned and pressed his forehead against the doorframe with eyes squeezed shut. The same way his wife died, her heart stopping on the operating table. He had lost her twenty years ago and she still haunted his dreams, the love of his life. And now the only family he had left was fading and he couldn't do a thing about, it just like before. His son, too young to die, was the only love he had left.

"Don't do this to me again." He growled under his breath, his throat closing, "God… you can't do this to me again, not again."

James suddenly saw flashes before his eyes, like lightning, quick pictures in time. He saw himself holding an infant in his arms, the newborn so precious. He saw a little dark-haired boy playing with him; his big blue eyes clever and innocent, studying his every move. He saw birthday parties and child toys. He saw a ten-year-old with a BB gun in his grasp, excited and amazed. He saw a teenager cracking jokes and laughing with him. He saw himself sitting in the cafeteria with that adolescent as they talked and talked endlessly for hours. He saw a man, tall and young and confident. He saw himself in a dimly lit vault with the number 112 on his chest. He saw that man challenge him for the first time, look at him with hate. His sapphire eyes were harsh and menacing, mature and cold, tired and beaten, those killer-savior eyes. He saw the weapons and the wounds and the war within him. James saw the hate. Oh, why did he have to get so angry? Why so different? So old…

James shook his head and distantly heard Dianne order for the defibrillator again, her gentle voice now rough. James could hear the buzzing of the machine, Dianne counting again. "Charging 200… clear!"

Castiel's body jumped to the electric shock, his chest rising with the two hand-held portions of the defibrillator as if magnetically attached. "No response," the medic pumping the air into his lungs stated, "Again."

The counting, the flat line's relentless note, the jump shock, and the jerk of the medical table occurred again and again as James squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He couldn't die, he just couldn't. However, it wasn't exactly hard to envision, he did leave the safety of the vault and constantly exposed himself to the dangers of DC. A perilous existence that neither he nor his wife wanted for their child had occurred, nonetheless. However, James never gave his son the chance to tell him that he would have been killed if he had not left also.

"Charging 250… clear!" his body jumped again and again, head bobbing lifelessly. "280… clear!"

"God, please…" James choked and let a sob escape, still not allowing his glassy eyes to behold the scene. "Please…oh God…"

"Charging 300 … clear!"

Suddenly the long ringing tone of the heart monitor jumped back into a dotting rhythm. James snapped his head up and saw his son's chest rise without artificial assistance. Castiel sort of gasped in his unconsciousness, his body jolting for a split second as if his soul suddenly was thrust back into his body with a colossal strength. James' mouth fell open as Dianne ordered the medics about again, voice softer now. Tears came running down his face as he watched them; the oxygen mask was placed back over his son's face. "Oh my God…"

James released a relieved breath, more than relieved, he was absolutely grateful. He heard the word _surgery_ for the third time as Dianne shot him a comforting glance. He was going to be okay, James thought, he prayed. He has to be. Moreover, Project Purity was going to have to wait another day, he needed to speak with his son and reveal the truth he had tried so hard to hide from him for twenty long years.

After three long days James still found himself at Castiel's bedside. He wouldn't budge, not when at any time his son could relapse. The room Castiel had been moved to was much warmer than the operating room. Still the walls were steel, but a calmer glow had engulfed the room and only the one. Once James took a departing step through the open doorway the feeling of peace left him like stepping out of the sunlight. The hanging lights were tinted a sunny yellow and, in solitude, James could finally sleep some, subconsciously sensing a third presence with them.

In that span of three days, James had found himself speaking to his son. He wasn't sure if Castiel could hear him, but somewhere deep down James felt the need to. He must have apologized twenty times. He told him about times when he was little and how funny he was, how happy he made him. James admitted he was proud to be his father.

Yet, he watched, as his son simply lay there, unmoving as his chest rose and fell slowly. A thin tube to help him breathe began at his nose and curled behind his ears and twisted at the back of his neck. He was dressed in white and lay motionlessly in the bed; the white covers up beneath his arms. James thought he appeared comfortable, his one arm down at his side, an IV needle tapped to the back of his hand, his other arm was rested over his stomach. Dianne had positioned him that way. He still was pale from the loss of blood. Sweat from before had left a sheen on his skin, his hair beginning to curl in little wisps because of the heat.

At times James would panic himself and think that he had stopped breathing or the beeping of the heart monitor had skipped a beat. It was odd to see him so still, so lost in sleep. His son was always moving, always talking and laughing and watching; yet now he was so silent. Worries then ran circles in James' brain. What if he never wakes up? What if he won't be able to walk again? What if he has amnesia and won't remember me at all? What if he has some other form of a brain injury and will become a vegetable or something? What if he still hates me?

James nearly gave himself a heart attack every five minutes. He feared for his son's wellbeing, his future, and his life. Why did he have to follow me, James thought. Why couldn't he just stay there? Why did he have to grow up so quickly? In all these worried thoughts James was somehow able to drift into sleep, he was exhausted.

A voice caused James to slowly open his eyes and break from slumber. He lifted his head from the side of the medical bed with a tired sigh. Gazing up to the source of the low hoarse voice, he straightened in the chair he was seated uncomfortably in.

His gaze met a pair of extremely blue eyes, question and emotion swirling in them like the cobalt-steeled sky already painted within the irises. Jolting in the creaking chair, James suddenly lost his breath and widened his grey eyes. His son was staring straight at him, his brow furrowed and features sober. Am I dreaming?

"Dad?" he said again, struggling to even speak clearly as his throat ached.

He didn't reply at first and seemed to simply stare at his son with glassy eyes. Castiel was sitting upright now and holding the oxygen tube that had been in his nose. The color had come back to his face, however he did look a little odd in that white hospital gown, or so he thought when glancing down.

Cas didn't remember coming into Rivet City or the venture out from the wastes. He felt like a shroud had been placed over his eyes, mind swaying out of the haze. His entire body ached and he was pretty sure a super mutant had used him as a battering-ram. His sides stung, his back was stiff, his head was on fire, and chest was pounding with pain. His leg throbbed with a dull continuous ache as he thought to himself. I'm alive? Shit… They should up my pain meds then… fuckers. Castiel blinked slowly at his father, something in his features calming him. Yet, he knew he could never find the words to explain what exactly happened in those seven minutes while he had been flat-line. Never.

"Yes, son?" James finally said, voice gentle like his features.

"What are you doing?" Cas responded, one eyebrow arching.

James laughed lightly with a grateful sentiment rushing over him. He could weep, he realized, but smiled kindly back to his son. "I must have nodded off."

"Guess so." Cas said with a slight snap and tore his gaze away from his father, picking at the IV in his left hand.

"Please don't be mad at me, Castiel." James replied and swallowed, "You have no idea why…"

Cas cut him off sharply. "No, I got an idea why you did it." He then glanced back to the older man with a hint of anger in his eyes, shrugging. "It's because of mom, I know, I get it."

James creased his brow and looked to his son with confusion and hurt. "Cas, what are you talking about?"

"What I said before back at vault 112," he responded promptly, "I know that's why you left, to start up the Project again, for her."

James lowered his gape and chomped on his tongue. A lump in his throat formed as his chest tightened. "Son…"

"What I just don't get is _why_," he sliced at his father's words again, "Why the hell did I follow you all the way out here if I already knew that the damn Project was the reason that you fucked every thing up."

"You shouldn't have followed me." The doctor said, but still would not meet his son's gaze, staring miserably at his hands.

This reply sent Castiel off as he jolted in the bed. "Shouldn't have followed you!" he shouted as this raise in his voice yanked his father's stare to his. "Fuck, Dad! If I didn't follow you out of the goddamn vault you'd have a dead kid right now!" he cried, the hoarseness of his aching throat becoming very apparent.

"What?" James whispered back, shocked, also ignoring that fact that his son was swearing at him.

"They tried to kill me," Cas explained with tensed movements, "I tired to tell you… if I didn't leave I'd be dead, just like Jonas and whole lot of other people." He coughed.

James' face fell farther. "Jonas is dead?" he couldn't fathom such a thing, his best friend killed in cold blood and an attempted murder on his son.

"Yeah," Castiel replied, his features mellowing from rage, "I found his body myself in the Overseer's office."

James' mouth dropped open as he simply stared at the white bed sheets shift. Cas studied him and did take notice of his pained expression, but attempted to ignore it in his anger. "I don't get it, Dad."

The sudden break in his tone made James gaze back up to his son as he allowed him to continue. "Why couldn't you tell me? Why'd you just leave?" he asked, voice trembling and eyes becoming glassy. "I thought… I thought we were supposed to be together in this and now even Jonas is gone."

Cas swallowed and felt his stomach twist as he spoke, his tone wavering with sadness, "Then you just leave with a note saying bye and that's the life you wanted for me. Don't I get a say in this? I hated it down there, but at least I wasn't alone… then you just leave and I wanted … maybe I wanted … to be close to mom too."

Castiel then squeezed his eyes shut, turning away, as large tears rolled down his face. He put his hand to his forehead in attempt to hide his emotion with a rigid jaw as James felt something warm trail down one side of his face. He looked to his son and suddenly he appeared his age once again in a long while, breath escaping him quickly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Cas." James choked out and felt his own chin tremble. He didn't mean to hurt his son, he didn't realize. Didn't realize that all he really needed was right in front of him.

James stood and whether Cas wanted it or not he grabbed him in a tight embrace like he would to him as a child. It took a moment or so, but suddenly James felt him return this. James felt him sob and his shoulders shake. He hadn't seen his son truly cry in years. James closed his eyes, merely contented by his son's unexpected response and forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry about… what I said back at 112," James heard Cas sob, "I didn't mean it, Dad… I'm sorry."

After a short while James took his son's face in his hands and kissed him on the forehead. "I love you, son."

"It's okay, Dad. Yeah, I love you too." James heard him say more calmly after a moment and he parted from him to catch a smile on his face, a warm smile of pure worship. Forgiveness. He loved his father more than anything.

James took in a calming breath and licked his lips. "We _are_ together in this." He replied and grinned through the side of his mouth like he had seen his son do thousands of times. "I'd really like to work with you, son." He said and meant it. Working with him on the Project was the one thing he wanted most, simply to be near him.

Castiel copied that grin with a short chuckle. He wiped the tears away with a hand and then comfortably leaned back against the mattress again. "Couldn't hurt." He said then paused and looked to his father, really looked at him, and decided to give him a little _message_. "Mom says hi by the way… Oh, and uh…you wanna know what Heaven looks like?"

Present Time…

It had only been about two days and Sarah was homebound. Spending some useless time at the Galaxy New Radio headquarters had cooled her off a bit from the incident two days prior. She now was storming the Citadel's iron halls with head held high, like always. Being the chief's daughter she was almost expected to put on a show like a presumed countess.

As her heels met the medical corridor a figure in dark leather armor caught her attention promptly. He stood there at the end of the long hallway like an imperfect statue and at first she thought he well was. Coming closer to him, Sarah noticed he was situated right in front of the room Castiel had been carted into.

Wincing as if he had spit at her, Sarah hardened her features like a child that did not favor being told she couldn't have ice cream. The ghoul stared right through her as she briefly studied him. With rotting flesh, indistinguishable features, harsh pale eyes, and extremely tall height, he secretly alarmed her. Holy crap. Sarah once thought Cas was tall, at least taller than most men, but this creature was nearly seven feet high, towering well over Castiel easily.

"Who the hell let you in here?" she demanded, and scrunched her nose at him. She didn't like ghouls.

At first he glared at her then tossed his head to the side. "Talk to Cas, not me."

Sarah furrowed her brow deeper, thinking that he might have been attractive at one time by the shape of his face. "You're with …" she began, but he sharply cut her off.

"Talk to Cas." He said again, very rough and plainly.

Sarah rolled her sky blue eyes and strode past the armed ghoul and into the room he was guarding.

There he was, dressed in his black tee and pulling on his beige jeans while sort of dancing. The medical gown was thrown over the side of the bed along with the detached IV tubes. He was listening to a song off his radio. I'm a Mighty Mighty Man, it kept singing and she recognized the tune. Sarah couldn't help but giggle to herself. The song fit him so ironically well and he also looked like a goofball while dancing to it.

He was singing along and turned to grab his shoes when he saw her leaning in the doorway with arms crossed. He nearly jumped across the room.

"Jesus, Sarah!" he stated with an excited voice and ran a hand down his face. "Don't you know not to sneak up on people like that? … Especially when they're getting dressed," he said, secretly ecstatic that she had, "Skank."

She laughed and shook her head. "Douche."

Cas chuckled and sat down on the medical bed to pull his boots on. Still smiling, Sarah watched him, grateful that he was back to his normal humorous and proud self. He appeared much better than when she had last seen him.

The proper color had filled his face again, features mellowed. It almost looked like he had put back on his normal weight in two days. He probably took a shower, she thought, his hair was sleek and brushed back. Once again she studied him and thought he well was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. He had a bright smile and big, blue, soft, intense, killer, angel eyes that probably got him plenty of attention as a baby. He had secretly charmed and mesmerized her with this gorgeous glow.

"What are you doing, Cas?" she asked and decided that arguing with him about staying and regaining his strength was a lost cause.

Pulling on his other black boot he grinned up to her, the grin that curled up through the right side of his lips and brought her to shiver inside. "What does it look like, babe?"

She pursed her lips. "Turn that thing off." She replied with a playful snap.

"Why?" he asked and jumped up from the mattress and proceeded to dance again. "You know you like it."

She laughed as he beckoned her to dance with him with little comical gestures. "Why are you so happy?" she asked after pushing away his touch.

He leaned over and grabbed his jacket from the chair it had been lying on. "What? A man can't be happy?" he replied while pulling the leather coat over his arms and adjusting it at his chest with a proud flick of the collar.

"I didn't say that." Sarah said and cocked her head to the side, fidgeting with her light hair. "Just…" she swallowed and redirected the conversation, "Where are you going?"

His expression seemed to sober as he simply turned the music down and clicked the clasp of his metal belt together. "There's still something I gotta do."

She knew exactly what he was hinting at and sighed. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Can't do that." He replied and tucked in his shirt. "It's just something I gotta finish."

"I figured." She responded and lightened her features when his steel blue eyes flickered to hers. "What's with the ghoul?"

Cas bit on the inside of his cheek. "Who, Charon?" he inquired, "He said he had some business to deal with in Underworld."

"No, I mean why is he here?" Sarah lowered her voice while glancing to the doorway where he still stood.

"He's my partner." Cas replied simply and didn't seem to notice her disgust with the creature. He never was the judging type and befriended ghouls just fine, besides they respected him in Underworld. Sarah nodded with a low profile eye roll. "Don't worry, sweetheart, he won't do nothing if I don't tell him to." He teased as Charon scoffed to his left.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the wastelander. "I hate it when you call me those mushy names."

Cas leaned in closer with a smirk. "I know." He replied and stole a kiss from her quickly. He began to saunter through the doorframe.

"Don't you just wanna stay here a little while? I mean…" she muttered and gazed to him with large eyes glinting with longing.

Castiel turned back to her, full lips still curved into his cocky smirk. "Can't stay this time." He responded, the grey-blue blaze in his eyes reflecting off the blue rectangular lights from above.

"You'll be back, right?" she asked as Charon glanced back and forth between the both of them then groaned to himself, irritated.

"Hell yeah, baby." Castiel said and winked at her before he turned to depart. Sarah smiled and listened to them as they wandered down the corridor to search for the exit, which always gave him trouble in finding. However, something deep in her core hollowed in this moment. A feeling of forewarned doom hit her as soon as those last words from him to her seemed like a meaningful ply.

"You up for vault 87?" Cas inquired confidently.

"Sure, Boss." Charon replied walking beside the wastelander.

Castiel snickered and licked his lips with a lightly furrowed brow. "Charon, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"


End file.
